


Skins

by zetuslapetus



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Drugs, F/M, Rio as Annies plug AU, Weeeeeeeed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26455285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetuslapetus/pseuds/zetuslapetus
Summary: “Is there a problem?” He asks.Beth shakes her head. “No-no, I - “ she says quickly, still staring at the baggie in her hand.He dips his head down and catches her eyes. He raises a brow at her in question, waiting for her to answer.“I’ve never, I don’t know how to roll it,” she exhales and her shoulders drop.orThe Adventures of Beth Boland and Mary Jane.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 26
Kudos: 153





	Skins

**Author's Note:**

> More writer's block adventures from me, thanks for humoring me in advance!

“Come on, Annie, please,” Beth whines into the phone. 

“Beth, I don’t know what you want me to do, I’m out and - Ben, what is that? Kill it!” She screeches into Beth’s ear. 

There’s a commotion on the other end of the line and some more yelling before Annie speaks again. “I hate camping,” she groans.

“I know you have some hidden in your sock drawer  _ somewhere, _ ” Beth says accusingly.

Annie scoffs. “I have better hiding places than that, I’m not in high school anymore. But I’m out Bethie.”

Beth groans at the nickname and flings herself on the couch. She toes one shoe off, then the other. 

Beth had been battling insomnia ever since she was a teenager, but it’d gotten better at some point, or so she’d thought. 

Three months ago she’d walked in on her husband on top of the babysitter, and Beth hasn't been able to get more than three hours of sleep a night since. Until one day Annie’d finally convinced her to smoke a blunt. Beth had blissfully passed out that night and never looked back. 

She’d depended on Annie’s connection, her  _ plug _ , or whatever Annie had called him. A few nights ago, as she’d finished her last joint and melted into the sheets, the realization that Annie was on a camping trip for a week hit her like a truck. 

“Annie, I’ve slept all of four hours in the last two days, and you know I can’t take the Ambien, it gives me nightmares,” Beth whines. 

“Just text my plug, Beth, tell him I sent you,” Annie says with a soft chuckle. 

Beth jerks up into a sitting position and shakes her head silently. 

_ Text him? She can’t text him.  _

_ Can she? _

“Hello?” Annie says after a moment of quiet and Beth stutters. 

“I can’t text him - “ Beth exclaims.

“Why not?” 

“I - “ Beth exhales and considers it for a moment. The thought of it makes her palms sweat and her heart race. What would she say, would he come here, or does she meet him somewhere? How much does she pay? 

“What do I - how would I even - “ she trails off.

“Oh god - “ Annie breathes out, ”I’ll text him for you just don’t have a stroke, grandma.” 

It’s quiet then, Beth can hear the telltale sound of Annie’s keyboard as she texts. 

A thrill of excitement runs through Beth at the thought of getting rest tonight. Dean had the kids until Sunday evening and she was banking on catching up on sleep during the weekend only to find the glass jar Annie had gifted her empty.

“Okay - “ Annie comes back on the line and Beth holds her breath. “How much cash do you have on you?”

Beth jumps off the couch and stumbles forwards towards her purse. “I don’t know, forty bucks?” 

“Perfect,” Annie says. “He’ll be there in twenty.”

“What! He’s coming here?” Beth asks, flustered.

“Yeah, unless you want to meet him at the gas station down the street?” Annie snorts.

“No, I just - “

“Relax, Beth, he just wants your money,” Annie says and Beth can hear the eye-roll over the phone. 

“Where did you meet this guy?”

“Eddie."

“Eddie!” Beth snaps. “ _ Prison _ Eddie?”

“He’s not in prison, Beth, he’s in jail. There’s a difference.”

Beth groans but pulls the cash out of her wallet. A heavy pit of anxiety settles deep in her belly, but the idea of sleep is too sweet to let nerves win out. She puts her wallet away, slips the money into her back pocket, and squares her shoulders. She can do this. 

They chat for a bit, Annie distracts her with a story about the biggest frog she’s ever seen and how loudly she’d screamed when it’d jumped on her. 

It works, Beth laughs, relaxes, and then the doorbell rings.

“Oh god,” Beth groans, and Annie cackles.

“Relax, Beth. Answer the door before he leaves, and call me after, okay, bye!“

“Wait, I - “ Beth begins to protest but it’s too late, Annie's already hung up.

Beth exhales quietly, slides her phone into her other pocket, and steps towards the door.

She can do this. She’s done  _ way _ scarier things in life. Things she can’t think of right now.

She shuffles to the door, unlatches the bolt, and swings it open with as much confidence as she can muster. It’s pitch black outside, the only light coming from the single streetlight at the main road and the little light above her front door. 

He’s tall and handsome, with a sharp jaw and a nose ring that catches the shitty light. He’s also strangely familiar, and Beth struggles to place him for the first few seconds. 

Then she remembers. 

She’d seen him at Annie’s last birthday. He’d come to the bar with Eddie but hadn’t stayed long. She remembers because she couldn’t stop staring at the tattoo on his neck, now covered by a black hoodie.

He gives her a quick nod, then his eyes drop down her body and she feels her cheeks burn. She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

Annie hadn’t mentioned it was him, but why would she. 

“Hi,” she finally whispers and steps back to fully open the door. “Come in.”

He follows her into the kitchen, and an awkward silence settles over them. Beth shuffles from one foot to another, fiddles with the edge of her sweater. There’s an amused smirk plastered on his face, but he doesn’t speak. 

She pulls the cash out of her back pocket and clears her throat. 

“Did Annie - “ she begins and extends her hand out to him, offering him the cash.

His eyes drop down to the money and he grins. Beth’s chest tightens. She can’t tell if he’s laughing at her. 

He nods slowly, takes a step towards her, and reaches out for the money. His fingers slide over her own, thumb brushing across her knuckles before he pulls the bills out of her hand.

Pocketing the money, he slides his other hand out of the sweater pocket with a baggie. He holds it out to her but doesn’t extend his hand. He’s not close enough for her to reach so she has to take a step forward to grab the bag. 

Her eyes fall to the bag and she feels that same rush of excitement again. When he doesn’t let go of the bag immediately her eyes snap back up to his face. When they make eye contact again his eyes crinkle, studying her. 

“How do you know Annie again?” He asks and Beth blinks, fingers still holding onto the bag.

“She’s my sister,” Beth says and he lets go of the baggie with a nod.

The baggie is small but there’s more than enough there to get her through until Annie returns. The cold realization that she’ll have to roll it herself washes over her then.

_ Damn it _ .

Annie had always done that for her. 

Beth had tried to roll a few herself but she could never get it right. The paper was always too thin and ripped. 

“Is there a problem?” He asks. 

Beth shakes her head. “No-no, I - “ she says quickly, still staring at the baggie in her hand.

He dips his head down and catches her eyes. He raises a brow at her in question, waiting for her to answer. 

“I’ve never, I don’t know how to roll it,” she exhales and her shoulders drop. 

When he laughs it’s husky and deep, and it makes the hairs on her arms prickle. 

“How long you been smoking?” He asks and reaches a hand out for the bag. 

She shakes her head, confused. “Not long.”

“You don’t say,” he hums and snatches the baggie out of her hand. “You got any skins?” 

“What?” 

“Rolling paper,” he says over his shoulder as he seats himself down at the kitchen counter.

Her heart speeds up at the realization that he’s offering to roll them for her.

“Yes, somewhere,” she nods and quickly squeezes around the island and enters the kitchen. She opens a few drawers before she finds the packet Annie had left behind ages ago. “Annie usually does it for me,” she says and holds up the package. 

“Yeah?” 

He’s looking at her again in a way she isn’t used to. His eyes jump to the papers in her hand then back to her face. She walks around the kitchen island until she’s in front of him, close enough that she can see tiny depressions in his bottom lip where he’d bit it. 

When he grabs the papers from her he doesn’t touch her.

“How many you want?” He asks.

When he speaks she realizes she’s still staring at his mouth. 

“Two or three,” she says. “Thank you,” she adds in a whisper.

“No big,” he says and opens the baggie. 

The familiar smell is strong and hits her immediately. 

“Is this a service you provide?” She asks, a little giddy and surprised at her own boldness. He looks up from the baggie with an arched brow.

“Maybe,” he says with a small smile. He slips out a few papers and rolls them between his fingers.

That pulls something deep inside her belly. He doesn’t look like someone who makes house calls, let alone rolls blunts for desperate housewives.

“Can I get you something,” she clears her throat, then quickly adds, “To drink?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head and pulls bud out of the bag. 

She watches his fingers, mesmerized by how they move. 

Rings adorn his long digits and he quickly wraps the first joint. He pinches the paper and brings it up to his mouth. Her eyes follow the motion up to his lips, and she watches as he licks across the edge of the paper to seal it. 

When she looks up he’s staring at her. 

She blinks, embarrassed at being caught staring but he doesn’t react at the attention. 

He slides the first joint across the countertop to her and nods at it. 

She picks it up, rolls it between her fingers.

“Not bad,” she says playfully.

He chuckles. “Yeah?”

She hums and leans a hip against the counter, eager to watch him continue. 

He does. 

She watches in silence, spellbound by how quickly he works. In no time he’s finished a second one.

“You wanna try?” He asks and slips out another paper.

Beth sighs. 

“No, I - “ she shakes her head. “Annie tried to teach me but I’m hopeless.” 

“I ain’t Annie," he smirks and pulls out another paper from the packet and slides it to her. He pulls out some weed from the bag and tosses the rest to her. “Like this,” he says and nods to the paper he’s rolling between his fingers.

_ Jesus _ .

She watches, mouth suddenly dry, and tries her best to mimic him. The paper slips from between her fingers and floats down to the counter. She quickly picks it up again when he gives her a sharp look.

“Break up the bud,” he says and picks the flower apart with the tips of his fingers. He rips the grass to small pieces until it's equally distributed along the paper then he pauses.

He looks up at her and bites his bottom lip to not laugh. She’s focused, brows furrowed as she attempts to imitate what he’d just shown her. She flicks her hair back and out of her face, blows a strand out of her eye. 

“Okay,” she nods and looks up at him. He’s patiently waiting for her, elbow leaning on the kitchen counter.

She looks away, looks down at his perfectly rolled joint, and frowns. It doesn’t look anything like hers.

“Now pick it up,” he says quietly and she follows. Her hand shakes a little as she pushes one edge of the paper in with her thumb and flips the other edge over. “There you go,” he says quietly, urging her on. His is already wrapped, just waiting to be sealed.

When she’s got it wrapped she holds it in both hands and looks up at him.

Then she laughs. 

He smiles and brings the paper up to his mouth, nods at her to follow. She does.

She brings the joint to her lips, watches him, and copies exactly what he does. His eyes drop to her mouth and the little peek of her tongue pressing out and against the paper. She runs her tongue across the edge and quickly seals the joint. 

She squeals and drops the joint down next to his own. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough and it’s hers. 

“See,” he says quietly with a proud smile, voice too deep. 

When she looks up from the joint he’s still looking at her mouth. He tilts his head, smirks, and reaches his hand out. He slides his thumb across her bottom lip and picks off a stray piece of grass that must have slipped out of the wrap.

His hand is warm, thumb a little rough.

Her mouth drops open, and she lets out a soft breath. 

“Thank you,” she whispers and his hand drops. A silence settles between them again. “Do you want a smoke?” She asks after a beat and cringes internally. 

He shakes his head. “I don’t smoke.”

A laugh escapes her before she can school her reaction. “You sell but you don’t smoke?”

“Nah, makes me paranoid,” he says, “But I bet you real fun when you smoke,” he says, and he says it in a way that Beth is pretty sure he doesn’t think that at all. “I bet you get real chatty.”

Beth refuses to blush. 

She shakes her head, opens her mouth to respond but he interrupts with a deep laugh.  “Yeah, I bet you get real giggly, it’s always the up-tight ones you gotta watch out for.”

_ Up-tight.  _

“I am not uptight,” she snaps and snatches the joints off the counter. 

He squints at her playfully, and rests his chin on his palm, leaning forwards on the table. 

“I can’t sleep, that’s why I need - “ she trails off, annoyed at herself for feeling the need to explain herself to him. 

His smirk deepens.

“Oh, there’s better ways to wear yourself out, darlin’.”

Her cheeks burn. 

The implication is clear but the idea that someone who looks like him could imply  _ that _ with someone who looks like her makes her belly dip in a way she hasn’t felt in a while. 

He laughs at her reaction and slides off the stool. 

“I’ll see you around, Elizabeth,” he says over his shoulder and turns for the door.

She doesn’t realize that she’d never told him her name until he’s long gone and she’s almost finished smoking.

Annoyed at the entire experience, and still unable to sleep, she dials Annie.

“Am I uptight?” Beth blurts out as soon as she hears Annie pick up.

“What -” Annie grunts, half asleep. “I mean yeah, but - “ Annie pauses for a moment and then hums. “You’re high, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Beth exhales with a soft whine. “I can’t sleep.”

“Smoke some more.”

“I can’t, I only have three more joints left.”

“You rolled your own joints?” Annie gasps a little too loudly, almost proudly.

“No, he rolled them for me. Well, I rolled one,” Beth responds lazily and smacks her lips. Her mouth is dry, she feels boneless and there’s no way she can make it to the kitchen for a drink right now. “Why didn’t you tell me it was  _ him _ ?” 

It’s quiet for a beat. Beth can hear her heavy breathing echoing back in her ear. 

“Hello?” Beth croaks and pulls the phone back to check that she hadn’t accidentally hung up with her cheek.

“ _ He _ rolled  _ you _ joints,” Annie says slowly, emphasizing each word.

“Yes, but I rolled one too - “ Beth says, frowning at Annie not acknowledging her accomplishment. 

“ _ Rio _ came into the house and rolled -”

“Yes, why do you keep repeating that, are  _ you _ high?” Beth snaps. 

Annie laughs, it’s gurgly and quiet. 

“Am I - “ Beth begins but Annie cuts her off with a louder laugh that bubbles out of her chest.

“Jesus,” Annie says. “Yes, you are. Smoke some more and go to bed, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Beth stutters. “I thought you weren’t coming back until Monday?”

Annie sighs. “I lied, I just wanted to see if you’d go through with it.”

“Bitch,” Beth huffs and hangs up. She tosses the phone across the bed and turns into her pillow. 

***

She calls Annie again exactly one week later.

“I need you to text him, please,” Beth says quietly. 

“Who?” Annie mumbles through a mouth full of chips.

Beth clears her throat, then whispers again.

“Rio.”

“You’re already out, jeez, how much are you smoking?” Annie snorts. “I have some, I’ll bring it by tonight.”

“No, I - “ Beth pauses and groans internally.

A beat of silence passes, then Annie cracks up. 

“Oh,” Annie wheezes, “my God.” 

Beth’s already regretting even mentioning it. There is absolutely no way to save this or convince Annie that she’s asking for anything but what she’s asking for.

“Annie, just - “ 

Annie laughs louder. After a few minutes, she exhales dramatically into the phone.

“The  _ only _ reason I am even considering this is because you need to get laid but this is not a good idea, Beth, ” Annie says. 

“I’m not going to - “

“I don’t want to know,” Annie shushes her, and then Beth can hear the clacking of Annie’s nails against the phone screen.

Beth holds her breath until she feels her heartbeat in her temples. The idea of seeing him again makes her stomach dip in a not unpleasant way. 

“‘Kay,” Annie says and stuffs what must be more chips into her mouth. 

“‘Kay?” Beth repeats. 

“‘Kay he’ll be there in fifteen, and you’re welcome,” Annie sing-songs the last part and Beth hangs up without answering her. 

She tosses the phone on the counter and takes a few deep breaths. 

After a few minutes of deep breathing, she scrambles, jogs to the hallway where she’d left her purse, and digs for her wallet. Dread seeps into her bones when she realizes she’d given her last twenty to Kenny,

“Fuck,” she whispers into the quiet and grabs her keys.

She can do it, the nearest ATM is three blocks over by the convenience store. She grabs her sneakers.

_ She can do it. _

Then the doorbell rings.

She’s still on her knees in the hall, one sneaker on and the other in her hand. She looks up at the door and freezes.

“Fuck,” she whispers again and stands up. 

She toes the sneaker off, kicks it to the side, and pulls her shirt down. Beth exhales, takes two steps forwards, and opens the door.

It’s light out, and she realizes this is the first time she’s ever seen him in the daytime, in the sun. He’s still dressed in black, but his hoodie is open and the tattoo on full display. Beth’s mouth goes dry and her toes curl against the tile.

He gives her a nod and follows her inside.

When they’re in the kitchen, in the same spot as last week, Beth turns on her toes to face him. 

“I um - “ she begins but stutters at his smile. “What?” 

He shakes his head and nods to the counter behind her. She doesn’t turn. She knows what he’s looking at, the massive mountain of cookies she’d baked for scouts.

“Bake sale,” she says offhandedly then quickly blurts out, “I don’t have money.” 

He laughs. “I don’t have drugs.”

“What?” She whispers.

He steps closer and pulls his hands out of his pockets. 

“I don’t actually sell weed,” he says with a smile and Beth’s mouth drops open.

“So what are you doing here?” She whispers.

He takes another step closer until he’s so close she has to tilt her head up to look at him. 

“You tell me, Elizabeth.”

The fluttering feeling in her belly turns into something hotter, and she feels it bubble in her chest. It bubbles until it's too much to hold in.

She jumps, slides her arms around his neck, and stretches to her toes. She doesn’t realize what she’s doing until she feels him step into her, until he slides his arms around her middle and presses his body closer. They bump against the kitchen island, the pile of cookies tumbles and she feels him grin against her mouth. 

He squeezes her middle, and she tries her best to cover the shudder his touch rips out of her. 

She eventually pulls back, takes a deep breath, and shakes her head.

“I’m sorry - “

“Nah,” he cuts her off and swipes his thumb across her bottom lip, the same lip he’d suckled into his mouth a minute ago. 

“You don’t sell weed,” she repeats his earlier words and frowns at him. “But Annie - “

He cuts her off with his mouth, slides his hand into her hair, and dips her head back with the force of his kiss. She hums and relaxes into his grip.

“I asked your sister about you the night I saw you at my bar but she told me to fuck off,” he says against her mouth.

“You did?” 

He nods, kisses her bottom lip again, and slides his body against her own.

“You were wearing that little red number, couldn’t take your eyes off me, I was curious,” he says with a smirk.

She huffs and pushes against his chest.

“I wasn’t staring at you,” she turns in his grasp, but he tightens his hold, lets a palm slip to the top of her ass. 

“No?” 

“No, I just - “ she shifts and gasps when his hand dips lower.

“What?”

Her eyes drop to his neck, to the edge of the tattoo and she blushes. 

His smirk widens into a grin and he leans into her, mouth at her ear.

“Oh baby, if you like that, I got a few more I can show you,” he whispers and kisses at the skin below her ear. 

“I wasn’t staring,” she huffs out and tugs at his sweater.

He hums against her neck, sucks at the soft skin lightly before he speaks again.

“I was,” he says and gives her bottom another squeeze. Her head falls forward against his shoulder and she moans softly.

“You left,” she pulls back, catches his lips with her own, and lets him lick into her mouth. 

“So you _were_ looking,” he says between kisses and she shakes her head. The argument fizzles out of her when he slides one of his hands to the bottom of her ass, tugs her thigh up to his hip, and rocks into her. 

She doesn’t know how long they stand there, grasping at one another, but she eventually pulls back to take a breath. She’d pulled his sweater half off, tangled a hand in his black t-shirt enough to wrinkle the material. 

“Sorry,” she exhales, tugs at the cotton shirt in a meek attempt to fix her mess, blushing. 

He squeezes her thigh, still hiked up almost to his waist, and shakes his head.

“I meant what I said last time,” he says.

Finally making eye contact with him, she frowns, confused. 

He rocks his hips into her softly this time. Her mouth parts at the feeling of his body - his cock. He’s hot and hard and it makes her head spin like she’s a teenager all over again. 

He smirks, amused by her reaction. 

“Anytime you can’t sleep - “ he begins and rocks into her, pushing her back against the edge of the kitchen island, “ - anytime you need to let off some steam,” he rocks into her again. 

She gasps, lets her head fall back, and grins. 

“You’ll come put me to sleep?” 

He laughs and dips his head closer to her ear. 

“I’ll even tuck you in when I’m done with you, ma.”

“Is this another service you provide - “ she says, trying her best to keep up with his smart commentary but he’s got a knee wedged between her thighs, in the perfect place for her to just push down and rub herself against the inseam of her jeans. 

And she does, she grinds her hips against his knee and cries out. 

He squeezes her thigh in response, helps her climb up, and pushes his knee into her core. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, “You gonna come like this?” 

She shudders, too focused on chasing the tension between her legs to answer him. 

He kisses her, swallows her gasps as she rides his knee in the middle of her kitchen. One hand burrowed in her hair he holds her against his mouth and then she’s coming. She gasps against his lips, and her body stills as her orgasm washes over her.

It takes a few moments for her breathing to calm, for the blood to stop rushing in her ears, for the realization of what she’d just done to wash over her. 

Her cheeks warm, embarrassment blooms in her chest, the kind that grows goosebumps on her skin. 

The kids are upstairs, asleep. 

_Fuck_.

How loud was she?

_ Jesus.  _

She pushes against his chest, cheeks pink and muscles tensing with the need to run; but he doesn’t budge, hand still holding her thigh stretched across his body.

“Elizabeth,” he says quietly, voice gruff, too aware that the mood has shifted from playful to something more. “You ‘aight?” 

He drops her thigh and slides the other hand in her hair too, pulls her head up, and forces her to look at him.

She blinks, nods slowly but stares straight at his neck, eyes running over his tattoo.

“I’m getting divorced and I have no idea what I’m doing. I have four kids sleeping upstairs and my ex-husband is fucking the babysitter - “ she rambles, eyes squeezed shut as the words just pour out of her.

But before she can finish he’s on her, cutting her off with a bruising kiss. 

“Four, huh?” he says against her mouth. “I got one, Marcus, he’s six. Never been married, never fucked the baby-sitter,” he says with a smile and it earns him a playful smack from her. 

“This probably isn’t a good idea,” she whispers.

“Probably,” he nods and pushes the hair back from her face. He hasn’t moved though, hasn’t taken a step back, or let her  _ breathe _ . She can’t even pretend to hate it. 

“Do you want a drink?” 

He nods, eyes still focused on her lips.

“Just a drink,” she says slowly and makes a move to untangle herself from him. When she pops the freezer open, she throws a look at him over her shoulder to ask if he’s good with whiskey. His eyes snap up from her ass to her face and he nods to her question, then he laughs freely at being caught staring.

Her cheeks burn again, and she stays at the freezer a little longer than necessary, letting the frosty air soothe her skin. 

She pours two glasses, slides his across the kitchen island, and seats herself a few seats away, finally taking a deep breath. He smirks, eyes her quietly when she takes a sip. She’s seated too far away, obviously distancing herself from him. 

“So, do you have any pictures of Marcus?” She asks on an exhale and sets her glass down.

His smirk falters, only for a moment, before he breaks out in a full smile and fishes his phone out of his pocket. 


End file.
